Caring for Enjolras
by EnjolrasIsMine
Summary: Sort of a companion piece to I Love You. Eponine's POV as she cares for an ailing Enjolras. He cutely tries to deny his illness, but Eponine knows better. NOT COMPLETE. Please R&R.
1. I Love Them All

*Disclaimer: I don't own Les Misérables or any of its characters. They all belong to Victor Hugo (my new idol), and I take no credit for them. Also, my friend Roccovende, who used similar words to describe Michael Maguire's beauty, inspired the starred(*) section of the story.  
  
*Author's Note: This is very much like my last 'fic, "Before the Others Arrived," but I couldn't help myself; I had to write another "sick 'fic." This piece was a bit of a self-indulgence, so please humor me and pretend it's original.  
  
"Caring for Enjolras"  
Chapter One: I Love Them All  
  
I love them all, the boys from the café. Ever since I joined the cause, each of them has grown on me. I know all their stories, all their flaws, all their strongpoints, and they know mine. And of course I wouldn't have it any other way, you know. Each of them is like a brother to me, closer than any real family I have--even 'Zelma or Gavroche--and for once, I feel at home.  
Tonight is no different. My heart swells with love as I enter Le Café Musain, for everyone is in their place, as usual. I hang my coat on the same chair I always do, and I prepare for the meeting at last.  
To my left, Joly and Bossuet sit at a table talking about their typical nothings. It is really quite touching to see how close they are. Such an odd couple, too! Poor Bossuet, with no money or home to speak of, and his almost missing hair, is so very cheery when he is in the company of his dear friend. The two of them practically live together nowadays. I tell you, though, it's a wonder Joly hasn't driven him up the wall with all his ramblings of illnesses! He is as healthy as any other man his age! Oh, but I love him too, as sickly and worried as he may be. As I pass the couple, I kiss the top of Bossuet's bald head and ruffle Joly's hair. I love to hear them laugh!  
In another corner of the room, Courfeyrac, Feuilly, and Bahorel argue over something, but I can't hear enough to know what about...Oh, now I can! It's another one of Feuilly's rants about Poland! Silly Feuilly always has had an obsession with that place, but I think he is ever so cute! I only wish the poor dear hadn't lost his parents at such an early age. It hurts me to see how hard he works to keep a roof over his head. But he is so very cheerful nonetheless! He holds his own against the ever-fiery Bahorel, who seems to take a ridiculous amount of pleasure in arguments. He would pick a fight with an empty wine bottle if no one else were around to have a brawl with. And then Courfeyrac stands beside them, interjecting his own opinions, though with less vigor, as I presume his mind is on one of the countless young ladies he must be courting as of this week. I make a point to smile at the three men as I go by.  
Jean Prouvaire sits alone a few tables away from the group, scribbling something on his parchment. No doubt it is another love poem. Sometimes he reads them to me, and I love to listen. His words flow magically, more beautiful than anything I hear at home or out on the streets. I wish Jehan were a bit more outgoing, though, for I would enjoy his company more often.  
"Hello, Jehan," I say as I approach him. He looks up at me, blushes, and smiles shyly, a habit that I find most endearing.  
"Hello, 'Ponine," he replies timidly. I love how he calls me 'Ponine, just like Marius does. I also love how he dresses. His style is incredibly distasteful, but it makes him even more loveable in my eyes. I bend down to kiss his cheek, and I feel him go warm under my lips. Such a sweet young man!  
And yet I keep walking, pausing to greet Combeferre and Marius. The two of them talk together, Combeferre looking thoughtful as usual, most likely discussing philosophy as he regularly does. When they see me coming, they stop to say hello.  
"Ah, Eponine," beams Combeferre, pushing his spectacles up the bridge of his nose and turning to face me. "Good to see you tonight!"  
Marius smiles as well, showing off his flawless white teeth. He is so very handsome, and yet lately I have stopped revering him as I used to.  
"How are you doing?" he asks kindly.  
"I am feeling just wonderful, gentlemen," I say, putting a hand on each of their shoulders. "How are you two this evening?"  
"Fine, thank you," replies Combeferre, and he kisses my cheek affectionately.  
"As am I," Marius chimes in. He doesn't kiss me, but I understand. It doesn't even hurt anymore that he does not love me. As of lately, I've had my mind on someone else...  
I give the boys a polite nod and continue on my way. While I cross the café, I notice Grantaire sitting alone. Oh, he's been drinking as usual. He's mumbling cynical remarks under his breath with the sarcasm he always uses. Sometimes he's funny, I admit, but I don't particularly care for the alcohol he imbibes nightly. There is something quite disconcerting about drunken people, though I don't know why I feel that way. I suppose it's because I've seen what the liquor can do to someone. I've seen 'Parnasse and other members of my father's gang drink themselves stupid, and I hate it. They become violent and belligerent most of the time, and even when they're harmless, I hate to speak to them. I never know if I'm talking to the person or the drink. Nevertheless, I kiss Grantaire like I did the others. He reeks of brandy; I try not to cringe, and I am glad when I don't. It does my heart good to see the gleam in his eye when I show affection for him. He quite obviously craves attention. The poor man is quite homely, but I don't care, because I've seen much worse out on the streets.  
"'Ponine, you're not much of a kisser," he says, and I am impressed at how little he slurs his words. He must be good at talking drunk, as he's had a lot of experience. "If you want to kiss a man, you have to go in for the kill. Right on the lips. Hard. C'mon, let's have a go."  
"Grantaire," I sigh, discomfort stirring in my stomach. "Why don't you have some water? Or some food, perhaps? You must be tired of brandy by now. Let me get you something else."  
"Don't be ridiculous, girl!" he says, taking another swig. "I never get tired of me alcohol! Have a drink for yourself!"  
"No, no," I decline uncomfortably. "I don't want any. Please, haven't you had enough? You want to be able to get home..."  
"I loves the ladies and I loves good wine!"  
With a considerable amount of guilt, I leave him there, as I know I'll never be able to convince him to stop drinking. His drunken song disappears in the purr of voices in the large café, and I keep walking, hoping he'll be all right. Now that I think of it, I don't think Grantaire ever goes home at all. Does he even have a home? As far as I know, he lives at the café. What a shame! He is quite obviously an intelligent man, but he has let his good mind go to waste...  
Oh, where is he? I can't find him anywhere...Enjolras, I mean. He is the leader of Les Amis de l'ABC. And what a wonderful young man he is! You'd have to see him to believe his beauty. He has the softest, tidiest dark brown hair...And his eyes! His eyes are a piercing, icy blue, rimmed by dark lashes that almost give the appearance of black liner, but it is far from excessive. Oh! How lovely those eyes are! *When he looks at me, I feel as though I've jumped into a pool of cold water, but then a sudden, indescribable warmth envelopes me and I melt under his gaze.* His face is beautifully structured, every aspect perfectly chiseled like a work of fine art. He has a magnificent, prominent jaw and masculine features, yet they are not too harsh; he possesses softness under the virile exterior.  
As of lately, Enjolras and I have become very close. He caught my interest several months ago with his talk of revolution, his cause so brave and noble, and I joined his society of bright young men without a second thought. And to think, I owe it all to Marius! Had I not obsessed over him so, the idea of becoming a friend of the ABC never would have crossed my mind. Thank you, Marius!  
I keep walking, but still I cannot find my dear Enjolras! Suddenly, I am worried. He never misses a meeting; he is a very dedicated boy. In fact, he was so caught up in the revolution, he didn't even admit his feelings for me until just recently...Oh, it's hard to believe anyone could like a shabby girl like me! But he does, and I couldn't ask for more, even if I don't understand. You see, I am not pretty, not like all the other girls who would gladly throw themselves at his feet. My clothes are ugly, and I have rough hands. Enjolras' affection is a miracle in my eyes.  
And here he is at last! I should have known, he's chosen a secluded table in the back of the café to do some work on his own. That's my Enjolras, always working for the cause. But something's wrong today. As I draw near to him, I notice how very flushed he is.He doesn't look well at all!  
"Enjolras!" I exclaim with concern, not bothering to say hello first. He looks up wearily when he hears my voice. "What on Earth? You look positively ill!"  
"I'm fine, Eponine," he replies curtly, though his voice is stuffy. I can tell it annoys him that I fret so much over his health, but how can he blame me? The boy works himself ragged!  
"You most certainly are not!" I say, pulling up a stray chair and sitting beside him. "I know you very well by now, and you're foolish to think you can convince me that you're in good health!"  
He looks as though he might protest, but a powerful sneeze interrupts him, racking his sturdy frame with force. That does it! I reach over and touch his forehead with the back of my hand, only to pull away in shock.  
"You're so warm!" I gasp. "Enjolras, you have a fever. You have to go home now! I won't let you stay here like this!"  
"Out of the question," he snaps, though I can tell his strength is waning. "I won't leave until I'm finished. I can't just go home because of a cold."  
"You can and you will," I press. I can be just as stubborn as him. He should know that by now. We are very much alike in a lot of ways, and our obstinacy is only one similarity. "I am taking you home immediately, and you will not give me any difficulty if you know what's good for you. And obviously you don't, because you haven't gone home on your own already. Honestly, you have no common sense!"  
He sneezes again and I rise to stand at his side, placing my hands on both his shoulders and squeezing them tightly. I know he'll surrender if I work on him. He's not feeling himself, so he shouldn't argue as much.  
"Please, Enjolras," I know he's close to giving in. "I worry about you. Come on, if you rest tonight, you'll have more energy tomorrow."  
He sighs. This is it. Nodding, he stands up, folding his battle plans and tucking them into the pocket inside his scarlet and gold vest.  
As we head for the front door of the café, I mouth, "He's sick" to Les Amis when they throw concerned glances in our direction. They all nod in understanding.  
My poor Enjolras! He walks close to me, and I vaguely feel him leaning into me for support, though unintentionally.  
"It's alright," I whisper as we exit. "I'll take you home and you can get some sleep. You can work again as soon as you're well."  
I wrap an arm around his waist to help him stand up straight. He seems grateful, but he doesn't say, for his voice is undoubtedly tired and sore. It is a shame that such a lovely boy must feel so ill! I glance over and notice how worn he looks, the poor dear, so very fatigued and ailing, and I am overcome with the sudden urge to care for him and nurture him until his strength returns.  
I love how warm he feels against me!  
  
***Any good so far? Please review; I've loved hearing your opinions! 


	2. He is Sweet When He's Ill

"Caring for Enjolras"  
Chapter Two: He is Sweet When He's Ill  
  
I have never seen the inside of Enjolras' flat, but I know I will in a matter of moments. We are nearly there, and it's a good thing, too. He leans against me in exhaustion and I'm afraid he won't be able to walk much farther.  
"Here we are," I say soothingly, as I'm sure he has his eyes closed. With my free hand, I twist the doorknob and open it, revealing the parlor, littered with papers and books. As we enter together, I take in the scenery, admiring his expensive living quarters, for I may not see it again for a long time. And how wonderful it is! This room alone is far nicer than my family's entire apartment, though I knew it would be. I live next to Marius in that run-down, hole-in-the-wall tenement, but it won't be long before we're evicted, I'm sure. Father cannot pay the rent, even with all the money he steals. Oh, but it's nothing new. I'm very used to the streets, as it's usually where I sleep...  
I lead Enjolras into his bedroom, and now that I see the state it's in, I nearly laugh out loud! For such an elegant home, it certainly is untidy! Rabble-rousing pamphlets cover his desk, his floor, his bed! Only a small space is cleared for him to sleep! My, he certainly is devoted to his country, isn't he?  
Beside me, he sneezes violently and I know I should put him in bed quickly. Oh, how warm he is! There's something attractive about his fever, though I know it's selfish of me to take pleasure in it.  
"Come on, now," I whisper as I take him to his bed, lying him down slowly and gently, pulling off his boots, and sitting at his side. I touch his forehead as I did earlier this evening, only to find it hotter than ever. He must need something to drink.  
Promising to return, I run out of the room to fill him a glass of water and carry it in moments later.  
"Drink, Enjolras," I say desperately, thrusting it at him, bringing it to his lips with care. With my left hand, I support his head while he takes a sip, using the other to hold the glass. He seems thirsty, so I continue to help him drink until the water is gone. Perhaps he feels better now...I can only hope so.  
"Thank you, Eponine," he whispers hoarsely with a weak smile, gazing up at me with weary, yet ever-intense eyes. I just nod and stroke his lovely hair, holding him close to me, almost afraid to let him go. He closes his eyes and rests his head on my chest, and I suddenly wish he'd stay there forever.  
It's funny how tenderly he behaves when he is not well, so different from his usual demeanor. Some people see him as heartless because he doesn't spend his time thinking about love and other such things, but I know better; he cares about the people. I can see it in his eyes when he passes a beggar on the street, how he softens with sympathy and concern, how his heart so clearly yearns to help each and every one of them. If this is heartless, then I guess I am too, as are the rest of Les Amis. No, my dear Enjolras is a very loving boy, passionate and idealistic, though he doesn't seem so. I believe he might be a bit afraid to demonstrate his real feelings more openly. He only shows what he thinks he should; I suppose it is a habit he's picked up over the years.  
I look down for a moment and I silently revere him, for his intricate thoughts truly astonish me every day. Somewhere in his sharp mind, I know he is thinking of France, even though he is terribly sick, and I simply can't help but love him more for it. His dedication is quite honestly an inspiration to me and all the other Amis as well, I'm sure...  
Do you know, he seems so peaceful just now, resting here with me...but suddenly he stirs...I do believe he's shivering! Oh, what to do? I know nothing about nursing or medicine! Shall I go find Joly? No, it's far too late, and it will take too long. My poor boy!  
"Enjolras," I whisper hastily. "Enjolras, are you alright?"  
He begins to perspire; I can see his forehead dampening. Without wasting any time, I pull a handkerchief out of my pocket and wipe his face dry, but he still trembles. I know! It must be the fever. Quickly, what can I do?  
Yes! Here's an idea! I lay him down, push his vest away, and begin to unbutton his crisp white blouse. Perhaps now he will cool off! Please let this work!  
"There we go," I try to comfort him...or maybe I'm trying to comfort myself. In truth, I am so very afraid! This is like nothing I have ever needed to do! Terrible thoughts stir through my mind and I am forced to envision the worst, most dreadful images. Oh! What happens if he...if he...  
No, Eponine! Don't think of such things! He will be fine as long as I stay here with him, making certain that his fever does not rise. I stare intently at my darling Enjolras now, for I can't seem to tear my eyes away.  
  
With his shirt pulled aside, I notice how strong and well-toned his torso is...What I'd give to merely touch his chest, run my fingers along his clavicles, be just a bit nearer to his magnificent body! It is so very lovely, like that of a marble statue! I almost feel unworthy to be in the presence of this beautiful boy, but I know he needs me. He looks more comfortable now, anyway, as his quivering has nearly ceased, and I finally breathe a sigh of relief. I wait for a moment, and when at last he is still, I drape a cool sheet over him so he will be a bit warmer. His eyes close once more, and I decide he will be fine for the night, so I stand up and head for the door.  
It is a bit of a disappointment, leaving him now. I admit, I enjoyed caring for him, feeling needed for once...wanted...  
"You may stay if you like," his weak voice stops me seconds before I exit. I turn back around to face him and see the gleam in his eye, innocent and suggestive at once, puzzling and yet so very clear. Sometimes it frustrates me that I don't know what he is thinking!  
But in a moment's time, I know: He wants me here. And how could I possibly refuse such an enticing offer when I have nowhere else to go? My home is a black hole, and I would give anything to have just one night away from that wretched place, away from my mother and father. I hate them both for the terrible things they do to innocent people! What monsters they are! They despise me anyway, so what difference will it make if I leave tonight? They probably won't even notice, and I want to stay here. Oh, how I do!  
"Very well," I sigh, unable to restrain the smile that plays upon my lips. "I suppose you might need my help in the night."  
Beaming, I return to his side, where he sits himself up to look at me. There are those fabulous eyes again! Even when he is ill, they burn with indescribable greatness, and I wish to hold him and kiss him for the rest of time.  
He sneezes twice, forcefully, yet with a certain gracefulness I cannot quite explain. His beautiful eyes close momentarily, and I watch as they flicker back open, two dazzling blue beams of crystal piercing the darkness of the evening. Lovingly, I wrap my left arm about his strong frame and draw him close again, suddenly unable to resist him a moment longer, his pure, vulnerable charm pulling me in. He radiates warmth against me and I rest my head on his shoulders, burying my face in his neck. His arms, hot with fever, find their way around my waist, and we stay this way for several minutes, frozen and still, locked in a delicate embrace. I feel safe.  
When we break apart at last, Enjolras sneezes yet again, and lies back down on the bed.  
"Get some sleep," I whisper. "With any luck, you'll be a bit better in the morning. I will stay here so I can take care of you while you rest."  
"Thank you," he says with the same softness as before, and this time, I feel compelled to respond. Without words, I lean forward to kiss his cheek lovingly, and I feel him smiling under my lips as I do so. Oh, he has made me happy! How is it possible to be so incredibly infatuated with someone?  
"I am always pleased to help you, Enjolras," I sigh into his ear, meaning every word with all my heart. "I adore you...perhaps more than I should, you know."  
When he doesn't respond, I pull away to find that he has already drifted off to sleep. I don't mind; he is tired, and sleep is what he needs more than anything else at the moment. Besides, I like to watch him breathe. His chest swells, then drops with a constant rhythm I can match, like the ebbing and flowing waves of the ocean. His soft, supple lips are slightly parted, and I can hear him exhale gently every few seconds.  
Silently, so as not to disturb him, I lay my head down on his upper body and listen intently to every breath he takes, smiling at the comfort I take in this position. My right hand finds its way to his chest, and I stroke the soft skin soothingly, my fingers conforming to every curve of his gorgeous body.  
I love him, I love him! More than Marius, more than any of Les Amis, more than anyone else in the entire world! Oh, I don't know what I've done to deserve such a beautiful boy, but I am grateful!  
Appreciation is a common lesson learned on the streets, as every day is a struggle and you're lucky to be alive when you wake in the morning, but this sensation far surpasses any thankfulness I've ever had for anything! Enjolras notices me! What a precious gift! I know I must sound so incredibly silly just now, but for my whole life, it's always seemed that no one loved me at all, as far back as I can remember. Mother and Father care more about their money and themselves than they ever have about Gavroche or 'Zelma or me, and when love is scarce, the little bit you have is a treasure!  
Yes, Enjolras is my treasure, isn't he? That's right. He's here and I'm here, and if this is all the love I ever acquire for the rest of my years, that will be fine with me. All that matters now is that I have him all to myself, right this very moment. This will be a memory I shall never forget!  
For a moment I lose myself in the bliss, but now I realize that I have been absentmindedly humming for quite some time now. I remember this melody...It is a song I used to know when I was little, a song I had put behind me for some years, but recall vividly now that it returns to me. Did my mother sing it to me when I was a child? No, I don't think so...Oh yes! Now I know where I heard it! The children used to sing it in the town where I used to live, before my family ran out of money. Gavroche was not born yet, but 'Zelma and I had many friends in the fairly small village. Sometimes we went out to play games with the other little ones, and we sang like larks as we danced with them, laughing gleefully all the while! What a pleasant recollection...  
But now that is all in the past; my childhood is slowly escaping me, as I have nearly turned seventeen, and I shall never experience it again. It is a melancholy feeling, for I occasionally miss the absence of worry in my life. I know dark shadows lurk in my future, waiting to strike out and perform horrific tasks, but I refuse to accept these notions tonight.  
"I love you," I whisper to Enjolras, knowing fully well he won't hear, and press my cheek harder against his body. For now, we are safe, and that's all I need to know.  
"I love you too," he replies sleepily, catching me a little by surprise, and I know he is smiling by the way his voice sounds. Lifting my head, I reposition it next to his, and I feel his left hand reach up and caress my face for a moment before he falls back asleep.  
Enjolras sneezes once more, rather softly, and I place my right hand on his shoulder, fatigue nearly consuming me at last.  
He is so sweet when he's ill... 


	3. I Didn't Know He had it in Him

"Caring for Enjolras"  
Chapter Three: I Didn't Know He Had it in Him  
  
My lips twist into a faint smile. The glow of early morning fills the room, and I wake, keeping my eyes closed, as I bask in the rays of sunlight streaming in from the window. Enjolras still sleeps, and I realize that I am in bed with him, curled up close to his still warm body, his left arm loosely draped around me. I have never slept so well in my entire life! Enjolras only stirred occasionally, probably from fitful dreams, and he did not disturb me at all.  
Oh! How good it felt to be by his side all through the night! It was almost as if, even though he clearly had no strength, he protected me while I slept, sheltering me from the threats that lie in the future. I know what we will have to do when the day comes that the barricades arise, even though I try to block the thoughts out of my mind. Every day I fear the worst, as I am sure most of us will die in the fight, even me. Even him.  
The bloodshed that will undoubtedly occur scares me, even angers me to an extent, because I see the injustice in the situation. These innocent schoolboys, my friends, deserve to be safe and sound, not battling against the nearly indestructible National Guard! They deserve to go to school, to worry about nothing but their studies and their love lives. And my darling...he deserves to finish college and do wonderful things with his wisdom!  
I can only hope our lives are spared so we can live together in peace after France is liberated. I want Enjolras to live to see the free world he creates when the fighting ceases; I want his work to pay off for him so he can at last walk the streets without seeing beggars and whores and death all over, like a black veil over a potentially beautiful flower. Please, let him survive the barricades.  
As I lay awake, trying to ignore my morbid thoughts, Enjolras opens his eyes and gazes down at me, his face still adorably sleepy. I turn my head up to his and gently kiss his full lips, surprising him a bit, I'm sure, as he is still not fully awake. Both of us are warm from rest, and our shared heat surrounds me with sweet contentment.  
"Morning," I whisper, lifting a hand to caress his cheek affectionately. The skin is soft and smooth beneath my fingers. He does not cringe at the roughness of my own.  
"Good morning, Eponine," he replies, smiling weakly; I can tell he still feels terrible, yet he gives a valiant effort to pretending otherwise. His voice is precious, husky from sleep, and attractively stuffy from his cold, and I feel the sudden urge to grab him and kiss him just as hard as I possibly can! Oh, but I restrain myself, as he must be still exceedingly tired.  
"Did you sleep well?" I inquire, hoping his response is positive. I can't imagine how he could have, feeling as unwell as he does, but he appears happy now, and that's all that matters to me, I suppose.  
"Yes," he sighs, and lifts his gaze to the bright window, the sunlight casting its radiance on the bed. "And you?"  
A grin spreads across my face when I hear the sweet tone of his voice. He knows very well how wonderful it feels for me to lie here beside him, lost in the comfort of his embrace, and I find it charming that he even asks me such a question! My lovely boy!  
"Oh," I close my eyes. "I slept so very well. Your bed is warm! You are warm...I am glad that I stayed."  
Enjolras looks at me strangely now, not like I am used to. He does not seem sad, nor does he seem cheerful, but instead maybe somewhat curious. I know his mind is on other things I wish I could see; his expression is like none he has ever worn before! All I can do is return his stare, silently wondering what he is thinking.  
"So am I," he finally breathes, hesitantly, and yet I know he means the words. Registering their meaning, my heart pounds giddily in my chest, singing with joy, swelling with adoration until I fear it might burst. Can he hear it? Part of me hopes he does, so perhaps he might know just how much his affection means to me. Suddenly I want to cry, but I can't understand why I feel this way...  
He abruptly looks away again, focusing his eyes on something else, as though he wished he had kept his thoughts to himself, but I want him to keep looking at me. I feel special today! I make a difference to someone!  
"Enjolras," I mutter almost as a question, though with nothing in particular to say; I just wish to hear the sound of the word roll off my lips, feel his name linger in the air before me and fade away slowly, quietly.  
"Mm?" he replies, finally looking at me again, responding with his eyes. Is he waiting for an answer or does he know why I speak his name? I cannot tell; it does not matter.  
"How do you feel today?" I ask.  
"I feel fine. I will go back to work tonight."  
His words strike me hard, like a blow to the chest, like a punch in the jaw. He is nowhere near well enough to return to the café! I can see he still needs several days to recover from his illness! He knows not how dreadfully serious it is, I'm sure, and for that matter, neither do I, but I know very well that he needs more rest.  
"No, don't," I plead softly, trying not to reveal my desperation. "You still have a fever; I can feel it, being so close to you. Please, don't be careless. I won't have you going out and getting sicker this evening. Just listen to how rough your voice is!"  
"Eponine," he sighs the way he always does when I try to convince him not to work. "How many times must we go through this? We still have too much to do, preparing for the fight. I've taken my rest and I am ready to continue working now."  
"You're not," I say with a little more despondency than I intended, gripping his forearm with surprising strength. "You'll make the others sick, you know. I'd be willing to bet you everything I own that what you have is contagious."  
At this, Enjolras turns away to sneeze twice, causing me to laugh, despite how worried he has made me.  
"That settles it," I giggle, releasing him from my grasp. "I win! You'll stay here today and tomorrow and every other day until you're well!"  
With a sigh, he closes his eyes and rests his head on the soft pillow beneath him, finally accepting defeat. I would laugh more, but I feel sorry for him, as he must be suffering terribly. Reaching over, I run a hand through his hair and stroke his face amorously, pitying and loving my fearless leader.  
"There now," I reassure him. "Give your friends some credit, will you? I'm sure they can manage things by themselves for a few days."  
"But what will I do for that long?" he asks impatiently, reminding me very much of a stubborn child. "Wait around while the National Guard could be advancing against us? Sleep through the fighting while my friends fend for themselves out at the barricades?"  
"You will rest and you will let me take care of you. Now, hush and go back to sleep. You must still be tired, for you tossed around a bit during the night."  
But he clearly will not go down without a fight, that willful young man! How precious he is, arguing with the same persistency as usual, pretending he is healthy enough to work again after only one night's rest!  
"You worry over trivial matters," he scoffs, sitting up straight. "This is nothing more than a cold, a tiny obstacle I can certainly overcome! The revolution is an entirely different--"  
"Don't strain your voice," I cut him off, placing a hand on his chest. I can tell he just hates me right now! Oh, but he loves me too much to protest! How funny the way he behaves!  
Poor Enjolras sneezes, pauses, and sneezes once more, shoulders shuddering cutely, revealing just how vulnerable he truly is. When he regains his composure, he straightens elegantly, now taller than me, and moves into the light from the window. What a beautiful sight, seeing him illuminated in the brightness of dawn!  
"I see rainbows when the sun catches in your hair," I say thoughtfully, taking in the beautiful image before me. "It makes you look beautiful."  
Oh, now he is at a loss for words, something strikingly uncharacteristic to Enjolras. He gapes at me for a moment, clearly baffled by my unexpected honesty, his eyes burning with cold fire, more intense than usual, if such a thing is possible. I smile and slant in, kissing his cheek delicately, and I know he will soften in a matter of time.  
Yes, I know my boy. He relaxes immediately and leans in close, tilting his head captivatingly downward. His breath is warm against my lips as he draws nearer, and we press together softly in an engaging kiss, molding together as one body, one soul.  
With delicious intensity, Enjolras tugs me closer, pulling me down onto the mattress where we lay interlocked, tasting the sweetness of each other's affection in the blissful quiet, only the sound of our breathing stirring the air. He wraps his hands in my hair, sending shivers down my spine, and I find myself surprised at his romantic skill; I never knew he had it in him when he was in perfect health, let alone now that he is weak and ill. Come to think of it, though, I suspect his sudden neediness stems from the illness itself.  
We are mid-kiss, fully enjoying one another's infatuation, when Enjolras pulls away forcefully, and at first I fear he is frustrated with himself for expressing his love so clearly. But now I am amused to see that he merely has to sneeze again.  
"You are quite lovely," I smile, watching him with delight. "Even when you're under the weather, Enjolras. Perhaps it would be better if I kept you ill..."  
At this I am pleased to hear him laugh, however gently, as he is still so very weak. My heart yearns to care for him now more than ever, seeing him so helplessly frail like this, a brave, bold fighter brought down by something as simple as flu. The thought charms me.  
"I assure you, Eponine," he smiles. "I will see to it that I never fall ill again. This is murder, waiting until I can go back to the revolutionary work."  
"Are you hungry then?" I ask, suddenly realizing that he has not yet eaten today. "I can fix you something to eat if you'd like."  
"No," he shakes his head. "I am not hungry. Thank you, Eponine. I actually feel tired all of a sudden..."  
He closes his eyes weakly and lowers his head again with such lethargy that my forgotten worries return with a pang of unease.  
"Promise me," I murmur with sudden anxiety, touching my hand to his burning forehead. "Promise me you will tell me if you need anything. You frighten me sometimes."  
"I will," his voice is strained, but I take his word to heart. I decide he needs to sleep, and I shouldn't disturb him.  
With gnawing discomfort, I sigh and curl up beside him, placing a comforting arm around his waist, and hope he will not let his pride cloud his judgment. 


	4. I Am a Lady

"Caring for Enjolras"  
Chapter Four: I Am a Lady  
  
I must have dozed off again...Enjolras is sound asleep beside me, the poor thing, exhausted from the illness that weakens him, and he hasn't uttered a sound. For some reason, this worries me, for his last words before drifting off filled me with apprehension. I can't help not believing what he says about feeling well; he's been known to deny his suffering, a trait I find both attractive and annoying.  
Nevertheless, I feel obligated to take his word for it, as I'd hate to irritate him with my fretting when he is already ailing.  
/Let him rest, Eponine,/ I scold myself, suppressing the urge to wake him for a report on how he feels. I know I care too much for him, as stubborn and generally unaffectionate as he is, and yet somehow I find it impossible to dislike these qualities. Perhaps this is merely because he has grown on me, the silly boy...  
Oh! All this lying about will surely drive me mad! I'm going absolutely stir crazy, lazing around in this bed when I would much rather take a walk, feel the sun on my face! But no, I must stay here with Enjolras, trying not to resent the haze of boredom filling the room, for he needs me. He might deny it, but he really, really needs me.  
Just look at him, sleeping like an angel...the little devil! He could certainly fool someone who didn't know him like I do, with his charming exterior and sharp wit. You'd never guess what a terror he can be when he wants to!  
His fever still doesn't show signs of relenting, a fact that troubles me quite a lot, and I'm seriously thinking of asking Joly to come have a look at him. I just hope he wakes soon, so I'll at least have someone to talk to. Conversations with Enjolras can prove to be genuinely interesting...  
Finally! He opens his eyes! But he looks as though the sleep hardly did him any good at all! Although it is quite impossible for Enjolras to look less than stunning, even in poor health, his usual grandeur wanes today.  
"Alright there, Enjolras?" I inquire, putting a great deal of effort into attempt at nonchalance. "You look a little peaky."  
"I'll be alright," comes his strained reply. No, I don't trust him now. His voice cracks when he speaks, and he has closed his eyes again in obvious overtiredness.  
"Look," it is difficult for me to keep pretending. "I think I should call Joly over to make sure everything is as it should be...You may not see how ill you look, but I do, and I don't like it at all, Enjolras."  
When he doesn't protest, as I know he would if he were feeling better, my suspicions are confirmed. He needs a doctor's care...Oh, but I can't leave him alone while I go out to find Joly! What can I do?  
Perhaps if I just stepped outside, I could ask someone on the street to go for me...I don't know if they'd do it, but for goodness' sake, I have to do /something!/  
"Hold on," I whisper somewhat frantically to Enjolras as I climb out of bed. "I'm going to find someone who can help you." He groans in reply.  
Crossing the floor and exiting into the parlor, my pulse quickens with nervousness, for every minute that slips by is a minute closer to grim circumstances. I open the front door and peer out onto the street, scanning for any sign of activity, any sign of someone who can help my poor boy! But not a soul is out today...  
No, no, this cannot happen to me now! What will I do? I haven't a clue how to care for Enjolras beyond the basic nursing, and that is of no aid to him with this raging fever! I sigh despondently. I can't help him now. I am useless!  
But wait! What's that I hear? It is a child's voice, singing off in the distance, loud and bold like a crow...I know that song! I know that voice!  
Little Gavroche! It's Gavroche, my younger brother! What luck! I cannot believe he is walking down this very street at exactly the moment I need him! It must be true what people say about the light at the end of the tunnel; just when you think it's all over, something comes along to make everything all right.  
Here he comes, striding confidently along, that brash little gamin! It seems as though nothing ever ruffles him at all. He wears the same outfit he always does, a fact that makes me sad for him, yet the familiarity is a comfort to me right now. He sings at the top of his lungs, not caring who hears, a habit that reminds me of my father.  
"'Vroche," I call to him, frantically trying to catch his eye. He looks up when he hears his name and notices me after a moment. "Gavroche! Come here!"  
There's something odd about talking to my little brother, even though he is family, as I never speak to him. Not much, anyway...We don't see each other anymore because of the way we live. Streets tend to separate people from their families, something almost anyone can understand if they've been lost before. We've all had that happen at one point, getting lost somewhere, dissolving into a crowd, either in a store or a park or any other public place. It's a scary feeling. I don't like to be lost, and I remember that now that I see Gavroche again.  
"Whaddya want, Eponine?" he yells back, approaching me. I wish he wouldn't kid around at a time like this.  
"Gavroche, I need you to do me a favor," I tell him, struggling to stay calm. I can see by the smirk on his face that he won't make this easy.  
"What'll you give me?" his question doesn't surprise me at all. He can't help it; he was brought up by greedy thieves, just like I was, and 'Zelma too, for that matter.  
"You truly are your father's brat," I sigh, rolling my eyes, then quickly growing serious again. I bend down to his height so I can show him how very solemn I am. "Look, I'll give you whatever money I can scrape up this week as long as you do this for me."  
He considers this offer for a moment, then nods in approval. Sometimes it makes me angry how my father and his gang have rubbed off on the little boy; nevertheless, I continue:  
"I need you to go find Joly for me. Enjolras is very, very sick and I can't take care of him anymore. I think he needs medicine, and a doctor. Please, Gavroche. He could...just...Promise you'll go?"  
"Alright, alright," he reluctantly agrees. "But you'd better pay me well, or I won't let you live it down."  
"Go! Hurry!" I hope he doesn't take too long. I feel as though I'm running out of time. There isn't enough time! Where is the time when you need it?  
I rush inside after Gavroche is gone, only to find Enjolras curled up, tangled in blankets, fighting to keep warm in his bed.  
"It's okay," I whisper frenetically, returning to my spot by his side. I run my fingers through his hair just to feel him, to know he's still living. "It'll be alright, you'll see. Joly will come and he'll find out what's wrong with you, and you'll be better before you know it! Just stay with me, Enjolras. Stay with me."  
Still, he doesn't respond. I know he's too sick to hear me, let alone understand what I'm saying, but I can't help hoping my words will somehow keep him alive. Somehow...somehow...somehow...  
Seeing him so unwell instills nagging fear in me. I don't know what I'll do if he...if he doesn't make it through this. Damn it, he /can't/ die! Not after everything he's worked for! He has to live to see his revolution. This is /his/ fight, /his/ battle! He must live so he can win!  
Saline tears well up in my eyes and stream in rivers down my cheeks, a strange feeling I am not used to, as I am not one to cry very often. All I can do is stare at him, my vision terribly blurred, watching his misty form stirring in front of me. I glance up at the manual grandfather clock at the wall. Five minutes have passed since Gavroche left to find Joly. I return my gaze to Enjolras, but alternate between him and the clock every few minutes. Ten minutes now...Fifteen...Twenty. How long will it take?  
Perhaps I have watched him for twenty long minutes...or perhaps I have watched him for a hundred years. I cannot tell. Nothing registers to me or breaks my reverie, not even the knocking sound I hear in the distance...  
Knocking! Oh, it's Joly, it must be! Springing up off the bed, I fly to the door and open it, revealing a very anxious-looking young hypochondriac equipped with medical supplies and a walking stick.  
"Joly," I cry, no longer caring how hysterical I look. "Please, you have to help me! Come in, hurry, oh please."  
He is very grim, yet he manages a weak smile as he steps inside, hurrying past me. But on his way to Enjolras' bedroom, he whirls around to face me, the look of concern on his face not for the ailing boy, but for me.  
"Eponine, you're crying," he states gently, reaching out a hand to touch my arm. "Are you alright?"  
"Don't worry about me," I reply hastily, wiping away the drying tears on my face and shaking my head. "Just help Enjolras and I'll be fine."  
With obvious difficulty, he nods and turns around, once again heading toward the bedroom. When he opens the door, I know he has gone pale. Seeing one of his best friends in such a state can't be easy. Apollo has fallen.  
"Dear God," he whispers, but he approaches the boy anyway and stands at his side. "Eponine, I'm going to examine him and see if I can find a problem. It may take a while."  
"Just go as quickly as you can," I nod, and find a spot on the floor to sit and rest against the wall. Joly takes out his medical instruments and begins to observe my darling, and I close my eyes for a moment...Just for a moment...  
"Eponine," Joly's soft voice startles me. Is he finished already or did I fall asleep? "Eponine, wake up."  
"Mmm...What?" I can't decide whether or not this is a dream.  
"Come on, open your eyes," he brushes my cheek with a cold, pale hand. I obey, and I squint in the afternoon sun that has filled the room. "There we are...Listen, I have examined Enjolras and given him some medicine for the fever..."  
"Is he alright?" I whisper.  
"He should be fine," his words take a moment to occur to me, but they strike my heart with bliss when they do. "It seems as though he's suffering from exhaustion, which has weakened his immune system. This is probably just a mild infection that will go away in a few days."  
His medical terms are familiar to me, as he always uses them when going on about his own illnesses. Smiling both because I understood him and because Enjolras will be all right, I sit up straight, then stand as Joly rises with me. We glance over at the sick, sleeping boy and exchange a look of utter relief.  
"Oh thank you, Joly!" I exclaim, and wrap my arms around him in a warm, reassured embrace. "Thank you! How will I ever repay you?"  
Surprised by my outburst of affection, he just laughs and shakes his head, returning my hug.  
"Don't worry about that," he sniffles with a smile, and I release him. "I'm just glad it's nothing too serious. We've all been so worried about him! I think I've caught a cold myself from all this stress."  
Of course he has. Yes, this must be his disease of the week. But even though I know he's a hypochondriac, I humor him and give him a small kiss on the tip of his nose.  
"Take care of yourself then," I laugh as he begins to gather up his things. "And once Enjolras is well, I'll be your nurse too."  
Suddenly I feel safe and relieved, and lighthearted chitchat makes me very happy at the moment. Joly pulls on his overcoat with a chuckle and beams at me.  
"You've done a lovely job," he declares, and somehow I know he means it. "For a lady, you're a very decent physician."  
I blush. No one has ever called me a lady before. I like it. I am a lady. Lady, lady, lady. It hardly suits me, but in some way it feels right at present.  
"Why thank you, M'sieur," I say as I lead him to the door. "Thank you for everything. You truly are my hero!"  
Now it is his turn to blush. I am glad that I flatter him.  
"Take good care of him, now," he says, bowing his head a little. "I should like to see him back at the café, but not before he's ready. He'll insist on coming sooner, I'm sure, but don't let him push you around."  
He walks out the door and sneezes into a handkerchief, and I stifle a laugh. Surely he'll take this as a sign that he is dying.  
"Don't you worry about that," I grin as he departs. What a sweet boy!  
Now to see my Enjolras again. I have worried so much, it will be wonderful to lay with him, knowing he'll be all right. I close the front door and return to his room and sit down beside him once more, the sweet feeling of his warmth touching me again.  
"You see, Enjolras," I whisper, curling up next to him, resting my head on the tender place between his shoulder and his neck. "You will be fine. You will get to fight your revolution after all, won't you?"  
Out of the corner of my eye, I see his lips curl into a faint, yet heartening smile. Yes, everything will be okay. But now I wonder...How will I ever find the money to pay back my brother?  
  
*A/N: A recent review brought a small matter to my attention, and I felt it necessary to explain myself here. This story contains many exclamations because you *are* being shouted at. These are Eponine's thoughts being "spoken," if you will, to an audience, and they reflect her tone of voice throughout the narrative. As this was a particularly frantic chapter, it was only appropriate to express her desperation and anguish through excessive raised voice. This was intentional, just in case you didn't realize it, and I hope you better understand the story now that I have clarified this. 


	5. I Can See

"Caring for Enjolras"  
Chapter Five: I Can See  
  
Gavroche is a cruel, cruel boy. Now that the current chaos has been temporarily put to rest, I can't help feeling angry with him for asking me to pay him in my time of need...Enjolras' time of need. That little bastard. Even so, it saddens me sometimes to think of the loving relationship I might have had with my younger brother under different circumstances, no matter how he has exasperated me today. When I really stop to ponder the situation, I find it strange that I care more about a group of young men I've only known for a few months than I do for my own flesh and blood.  
Nevertheless, this is how I feel, and I suppose I can't change it. I'm not sure I even want to, with all the love and respect I receive from my friends at the café. Without them, I would still be the same unimportant Eponine the world ignored only a short while ago, lost and forgotten like an abandoned puppy. That's what I was, wasn't it? A little mutt who'd been kicked time after time, but still went on walking the streets, making its way down a road full of gawking aristocrats, all of them cuddling their precious pedigrees. Well, this mutt has friends now, doesn't it? Friends of the underdog, the abaissé.  
Perhaps our friendship has somehow changed the course of my life and steered me in a better direction than I was headed by myself. Maybe now, instead of growing up to steal and cheat like my father, I will go on to do great things, just like Enjolras and the others. Yes, it's very possible, isn't it? And what if...Oh, it's silly, I know...But what if Enjolras and I actually become something? Is it childish of me to wonder what it would be like if we married? I suppose it is. After all, dreams like that never come true. If I've learned one thing, it's that fantasies, however real they may seem, are only figments of the imagination.  
A very short time ago, I adored Marius and would pretend he was by my side at all times, especially at night, when no one was awake to prove me wrong. And then my mind's eye was so vivid, I actually felt him there. It was all so real, so right, I could lose myself in the dream to the point where I thought I'd never go back. But sadly, that's all it was: a dream.  
With Enjolras, the feelings of love are just as sweet, only now they are returned. I am so happy I no longer have to pretend. Pretending is far better than being all alone, but it has side effects that make it almost as unhealthy. After the hallucinations disappear, all that remains is emptiness and frustration at their falsity. Loneliness ensues. And then you realize that nothing ever changed at all.  
But now I feel as though I'll never be alone again. He loves me; he told me himself. You couldn't even begin to understand what it's like, suddenly being cared for after a lifetime of invisibility. I don't deserve this, I don't! I was a little horror as a child, and I grew up to be a jealous, dishonest brat. Countless times I have helped my father steal from innocent people, and for that I now feel immense shame. I envied Cosette when Marius fell for her, but when I think of it, I realize that she deserves him after the hell my family put her through as a little girl. We were terrible people, and part of me wants to apologize for what I did. I believe I will someday.  
Still, even though I did my share of wrong as a brat, I have tried to redeem myself lately. I no longer assist the Patron-Minette in their crimes, and I do not begrudge Cosette when I deliver her letters. I doubt she even recognizes me, seeing as how the Eponine she remembers wore nice, expensive clothes and not torn rags disguised as a dress and blouse.  
Come to think of it, I'm surprised Enjolras gives a damn about me, as wealthy as he is. If he wanted, he could have his choice of the finest young ladies in Paris, and what's more, they'd probably all fight each other tooth and nail to get at him. I'm not sure if I mentioned it before, but he truly is gorgeous.  
With a barely audible groan, he turns onto his side to face me and opens his eyes, melting me on the spot, as they do have that sort of special ability. Instinctively, I touch his forehead and am pleased to see that his fever has lessened; it must be the medication.  
"Any better?" I inquire hopefully with a smile, as I know I have nearly driven him insane with all my worries. Deep down, though, I know he is grateful that I care.  
"Very much," he replies faintly, then pauses. I see that Joly has lit a small candle on his bedside table, and its glowing ember casts shadowy light on his face. "Eponine, what happened? Was Joly here? I thought I heard his voice..."  
"Yes. Your fever worsened and I decided you needed more help than I could give you alone. Joly was kind enough to examine you and provide you with medicine, the dear. You're lucky to have such a good friend."  
He smiles slightly at the mention of his comrade, and I stroke his face as I always do. I suppose it's become a bit of a habit, and he doesn't seem to mind. He blinks and I continue:  
"He says it's probably just a mild infection, that's all. You'll be fine. And I'm so glad to hear it, too. You really scared me, you did!"  
These words seem to strike a chord with him; I can tell by the way he stares at the ceiling. Sometimes I wonder if he feels the same way, knowing he's loved. Does it affect him like it does me?  
His blinking piques my interest...yet another thing for me to focus on. He blinks quite a bit, a habit that I simply adore, and I just want to hug him tightly, kissing him over and over, until the two of us absolutely cannot breathe. My blinky boy...I laugh inside! Everything about him just fascinates me!  
But even though he is quite delightful, I sense darkness creeping inside his head, diverting his attention from reality. Whenever he loses himself in thought like this, I know what it is about, but I pretend to be none the wiser.  
"Is something wrong?" I ask without needing to.  
"No," sighs Enjolras pensively in reply. Liar. "Joly is a good man. I must remember to thank him before..."  
His voice trails of into the hushed air and his thoughts are clearly reflected in his eyes, visible for me to read. I know what he thinks about, but I try not to remember. Oh, it doesn't matter; some things just burn into your mind anyway.  
"Before we die..." my own voice startles me as the words pour out of my mouth with shocking truth. Terrible as it is, we cannot deny that we may be killed on the barricades when the time comes that we must fight. I've grown accustomed to the idea, even if I hate to think that Enjolras will sacrifice his life at such a young age.  
Grimly, he nods, distracted by something I cannot see, and I notice tension setting in his jaw.  
"But we will not die in vain. We will die for a free world," with these solemn words, his eyes glow with the icy passion I recognize, his voice growing louder, stronger, unusual for someone so ill. "We will die for liberation, for equality, for the wretched so they may rise. We fight-- "  
"For people like me."  
Silence. He swallows. His skin appears paler than usual, from sickness and from somber apprehension. Clearly I have taken the words straight from his head, the words he'd never say, but secretly thinks about on a day-to- day basis. I honestly don't know why he's never spoken them, for it wouldn't come as a shock to me at all. I know very well what I am: one of les misérables.  
"It's my battle as well, Enjolras," I continue. I could cry, but the tears do not come. "That is why I must be there at the barricades. If and when you die, I will be there. I will watch us all die, because I want to be by the sides of my brothers when they each fall in turn.  
"You all know the price you will pay, don't you? Of course. You know better than anyone else, Enjolras. And it is because you fight for my kind that I want to join you. But above all, I want to die as well. I know I will lose you...and I'm afraid. I don't want to be by myself again, not after I've seen how wonderful it feels to be surrounded by people who care.  
"I hate it...the thought of your deaths, especially now that I love you all. I've tried to pretend that it isn't real, that you will live, but it's all a lie. To obtain what we have worked for, we must make a sacrifice.  
"We will make a difference, I know. We've waited so long for this time to come, the day when we can change what is wrong with the world. This is the time we have planned for, the reason we have drawn up so many countless battle plans and gathered ample ammunition. This is why we have rallied the people of Paris! But Enjolras, we will be killed. I even pray that I am first. Because you...are all going to die and I don't want to be alone when you do.  
"And yet in the end, we will have our free world, even if we are not alive to see it. We will feel it."  
My voice weakens and breaks. I do not even know where my sudden emotion has come from to produce such a speech from thin air, but Enjolras understands. I know he does, because I sound just like him.  
"You can see," he states, staring into my eyes with passion and insight. "You can see...and that is why you are like us."  
I return his gaze, but after a moment I shake my head sadly and surely, pushing away these grim thoughts, heaving a drained sigh. Suddenly I am so tired, as though I am old before my time.  
"Let us set this aside for today," I say, a melancholy tone ringing in my voice. "It is finally dark outside. You should sleep."  
"Stay," whispers my fearless leader, and I obey. I am already beside him, but I extinguish the small tallow candle by his bed with my two fingers and lay down to face him.  
As we rest awake in silence, I know his eyes are still open, but I close mine in exhaustion. I think he is well now...  
Just in time for him to die. The thought brings tears to me at last, but his last words fill the darkness of his evening-filled bedroom:  
"Goodnight, Eponine, my Patria."  
  
FIN  
  
***Well, that's it for this story. I'd just like to thank everyone for the reviews and support you've given me so far, and I would love to hear more from you! This has been an especially fun fic to write, because, of course, it stars my two favorite characters in my favorite pairing. Plus, I love sickfics! To top it all off, your kind words have been an invaluable resource to me, and for that I am extremely grateful. Please do review and tell me what you think of this one, as well as what you'd like to see from me in the future. I'll be more than glad to hear your opinions! 


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